THREE DROPS OF BLOOD

by Michelle L. Levigne

  He saved that for later, and listened to the commanders talk while he dozed. Mrillis had learned long ago that the most useful ideas came from people who didn't have complete understanding or much experience. Their lack provoked them to ask questions that their elders, teachers, and leaders had stopped asking years ago. Those who didn't know limitations were more prone to try what others had given up on.

  He had strong experience in that regard himself. If he had been taught about the sky-web and other properties of Threads earlier, he and Ceera might never have discovered how to purify star-metal as it fell to the ground, or found a way to fill the Vales with power and use star-metal to benefit all people with any touch of imbrose.

  While he listened and noted ideas that might have potential use later, when they were fleshed out and cleansed of difficulties, he thought about those fence posts, as Meghianna referred to Timark's caches of star-metal. Mrillis was pleased that their enemy had not hidden his entire hoard of poisoned star-metal in the tower. Stealing it out from under his very feet might be nicely dramatic and teach all rebels and traitors a much-needed lesson, but that tactic had the potential for destroying the entire tower. Killing Glyssani, if she was indeed in Tantagar, would defeat the purpose of their mission. And admittedly, there would be more satisfaction for the soldiers and loyal kings and nobles if Timark lived to be punished, instead of being reduced to char and vapor, without time to even realize that he had brought his own destruction on himself.

  She's there, Meghianna called, when the army had been three hours on the road and the eastern boundary of Welcairn lay before them.

  Show me. Mrillis raised his hand to signal a halt, and to command silence.

  He fought a surge of mixed exasperation, pride and worry, when he detected immediately the image Meghianna shared with him happened right that moment. He hadn't warned her not to take her troop so close to Tantagar, because he thought she had the common sense to stay away.

  Your sister is a bad influence on you, I think.

  His grumbled comment earned a breathless little laugh from her.

  Please, do you honestly expect me to stay back where it's boring and safe, when I know I can be of help? Besides, I'm the only one strong enough to measure the worth of Timark's forces. All his men gathered together, focusing their imbrose on one point, couldn't penetrate the shield of Threads I have around us. And from what we've seen in the last four hours, they don't have the intelligence to work together, even if he beat them bloody to accomplish it. Show Papa what we see?

  Let nature take its course, child.

  I'm not hurrying anything. But I want him to see the tower and think about the approach before he gets here. If there's a beautiful lady in danger to draw him on, what harm is there?

  Mrillis sighed and climbed down out of his saddle. Efrin joined him a moment later.

  "From Meghianna." He closed his eyes as he spread his hands, palms up, and caught three Threads between mental and physical fingers to create a slate on which to draw the image.

  A flat plain of dust and stone, perhaps two bowshots in depth, ranged out from the tower of Tantagar, carved out of the warped overgrowth of plant life that filled the valley, in perfect proportion to the dimensions of the six-sided, squat edifice of raw stone. Nothing grew there, and Mrillis speculated that whoever had created the safe tunnel through the poisoned wilderness maintained the clear area as well, with the spell woven and anchored in the very stones.

  Ah, you see it, too, Megassa said. Won't it be fun to grab hold of those anchored Threads and simply yank the stones apart?

  "Fun for whom?" Efrin muttered, when Mrillis repeated the young woman's words. He snorted, and Mrillis imagined the proud smile he wore.

  Then a gasp ending in a sigh escaped the king, and Mrillis knew he had seen the queen of Welcairn, standing on the top of one of the six parapets of the tower, her hair unbound and tossed by the grit-filled wind. She made a striking picture indeed.

  Meghianna stood close enough, in her Thread-shrouded hiding place, to see the proud, determined, weary expression on Glyssani's face.

  Matchmaker, he scolded her.

  What does Papa think of her?

  He has to love her immediately. She's beautiful and sensible and I swear she must have given Timark that black eye we saw, Megassa added. Her entrance into the communication only confirmed Mrillis' sense of her presence close by her sister. It comforted him to know she was there, if Meghianna needed any physical protection.

  Your father is more interested in the structure of the tower and the military challenges, Mrillis retorted. He opened his eyes and saw Efrin's mouth drop open just enough to be noticeable. No, he had been proven wrong. The king was definitely more interested in the woman he had come to rescue.

  Mrillis sighed. He remembered well the sensation of being pole-axed that now gripped Efrin. He had felt the same way when it finally hit his conscious mind that he was in love with Ceera. It didn't matter that he had known her all his life. When a man finally realized he had seen the one woman he was made to partner with, it stunned him.

  Estall, bless them.

  The unit commanders gathered around and studied the tower and the ground surrounding it, making suggestions in undertones for how to cross the open ground without being mowed down by the ranks of archers waiting in multiple levels all around the tower. Whoever designed it had definitely thought long and hard about defense, to the point of being on the offensive. Perhaps that was the whole reason for building the tower in Tantagar--to stand against those who came after the tower's master in retribution and justice. Even with the gathered power of the Warhawk to support them.

  Mrillis glanced over at Efrin again. To his relief--and it amused him to realize he felt relief--the king frowned even more deeply and walked slowly around the image that sprang from the foundation of Threads, studying it just like his commanders did.

  Have I become a sour old man, unwilling to let others enjoy love and life, simply because I have lost my Ceera? That thought so amused him, he almost didn't mind the headache from the effort of maintaining the illusion.

  "We have seen enough, I think," Efrin said. "We will need your strength for other, more important tasks." He nodded for Mrillis to dispel the image.

  "As much as it will do us any good," Commander Nostra muttered.

  "How is young Markas holding up in all this?" Efrin asked, once they were back in the saddle.

  Mrillis noted the king urged his horse along a little faster than before. He doubted it was eagerness for battle that drove him, now.

  "Your daughters have grown quite fond of the boy, and admire him. They say he's sensible and has a sense of humor."

  "He has to have one," someone remarked from behind him, "to endure being made to look like a girl."

  "How many of you would endure it for the sake of safely escaping, quickly, to rescue someone else?" Efrin shot back, amused. "The boy will make a fine king. He understands that sacrifice means more than just enduring battle wounds. He must have an extraordinary mother, to be such an outstanding lad. Especially with Timark undoubtedly trying to ruin him as heir."

  Most definitely, Efrin had fallen in love, and didn't even realize it yet. Mrillis knew the king would argue vehemently with him if he mentioned his observation. After all, what man in his forties fell in love after only one glance at a woman? Even if she was his soul-mate, the other half of his life music, who would believe it?

  You two will keep quiet about Glyssani until your father speaks of her, Mrillis warned the sisters.

  Of course. Meghianna sounded faintly insulted.

  He decided that was better than her being amused by his precautions.

  * * * *

  Meghianna, Megassa, Pirkin and Ynessa rode out to meet the approaching army at the head of a desolate ravine of scrub and broken stone, to guide them down the tunnel that would take them safely into the heart of Tantagar. Mrillis speculated for a moment that his grandson had brought his sweetheart to meet
him, then scolded himself for such idle fantasies. Pirkin simply didn't want to leave Ynessa alone. He allowed himself to study Ynessa as he rode the last dozen steps toward the waiting four.

  She met his gaze with curiosity, rather than fear, and only blushed when Pirkin took hold of her hand and leaned close to murmur something.

  Yes, definitely, Mrillis approved of this girl for his grandson. Her strong dose of Rey'kil blood gave him something to think about later, when this crisis in Welcairn was over. What kind of children would they produce, and would those children be allowed, or even encouraged, to pursue their Rey'kil heritage?

  Then the tattered, uneven weaving of the tunnel walls caught all his attention. While Pirkin and Megassa reported to Efrin and the commanders, Mrillis went with Meghianna to the tunnel mouth to study the construction. He reached out with physical and mental hands to touch the Threads, and flinched at the slight burning sensation of uneven power flow. Someone had fought with the Threads to force them into this configuration, instead of coaxing them and singing them into cooperation. This person, though clever and brilliantly creative, hadn't had the right training--or perhaps had had no training at all.

  "I think I can widen it so we can have twenty men riding abreast," Meghianna said. "I haven't dared attempt anything other than studying it, in case someone is tied to the Threads to watch for meddling."

  "Or simply for warning that another part of the construction is failing," Mrillis offered absently, most of his attention on the arch of Threads that shifted faintly, the colors a muted, dirty rainbow in his mind's eye. He imagined the Threads were semi-sentient here, enraged at being forced to do what they might have done willingly in other circumstances. He imagined them constantly pushing against the will of the weaver, trying to flatten down to the ground.

  "Promise me something?" he said, when he finally tore his attention away from the fascinating construction.

  "What?"

  "Stop expecting me to approve your choices, like a tutor. You are quite capable, and prove yourself time and again. I worry that we stunted you somehow, to doubt your wisdom." He grinned when she rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation.

  "Kindly remember I am only nineteen. I have a right to some flighty years of self-doubt, don't I?"

  "When have you ever doubted yourself?" Efrin retorted, coming over to join them. "Well done, my darling." He laughed, weariness in the sound, and enfolded Meghianna in a hearty embrace, picking her up off the ground and swinging her around half a turn, as he used to do when she was a child.

  Mrillis saw Ynessa's and Pirkin's eyes widen at this sign of playful affection between father and daughter--no, he corrected himself--between Warhawk and Queen of Snows.

  "Well done, both of you," the king continued, and held out a hand to beckon Megassa closer. "What father could be more proud of his children?" He looped an arm around his younger daughter's waist, drawing her close.

  "They are no longer children, Majesty," Mrillis said, earning laughter from all three.

  "True. Well, let us see what trouble we can cause for Timark, before we take his regency away from him and put it in more worthy and honorable hands, shall we?" He rubbed his hands in eagerness and glanced in the general direction of the doorway of the tunnel. His smile faded as he unsheathed Braenlicach and grasped it tightly in both hands. The star-metal sword glowed a deep blue, with red streaks on the outer edges of the corona, revealing the presence of twisted magic.

  Now the Warhawk could see the tunnel. The narrowing of his eyes and the deepening frown revealed that, although Efrin hadn't studied magic as his daughters had, he understood enough to know the tunnel was warped, forced and stolen from the Threads rather than coaxed and formed naturally, and therefore dangerous to those who would attempt to travel down it.

  "Prince Pirkin, have you entered this construct?" The Warhawk didn't glance at the young Valor as he spoke, but continued to study it. The flicking of his eyes from side to side, the clenching of his jaw showed him visibly working through the different plans he and Mrillis and his commanders had discussed once Meghianna revealed the tunnel's existence to them. Theories were one thing, but reality and working with it was something else altogether.

  "Yes, Majesty." Pirkin stepped forward, still holding Ynessa's hand. "It makes my skin crawl and burn if I come within arm's reach of either wall. It sucks at our bodies as well as our souls. If not for the Queen of Snows, we would be drained by the thing. I think that is partly why it exists."

  "Of course." Mrillis nearly clapped his hands in approval. He nodded in salute to his grandson, which drew a blush to the young man's cheeks. "We had wondered what device Timark and his enchanters used to drain the power from the star-metal they had gathered. It feeds itself, growing stronger, yet more infected and warped, as it drains more energy. No one thought to put any boundaries on it, so it draws power from everything. All the monsters conceived in this poisoned land have enough magic in their blood to warn them away, to preserve their lives."

  "Can you turn it against itself?" Megassa offered. "Like that basic healing spell we learned at the beginning of our training--take the spell that supports poison, and steal its energy, to use for defense against the very thing attacking you."

  "I can see I should have taken Valor training, instead of merely helping with some aspects of it," Meghianna said, nodding.

  The crooked smile she shared with her sister comforted Mrillis with the assurance that they worked together in all things. Meghianna didn't lead all the time, simply because she was the elder and more powerful. Sometimes he worried that Megassa would have some seed of resentment, waiting to be nurtured by a strong disappointment and hurt, to turn into a malignant growth like the trees and plants of this poisoned land.

  Mrillis and Meghianna took over at this point, taking the small contingent of Valors who had accompanied Efrin away from the rest of the army, and organizing them into a defensive wall that would allow the two enchanters to work their spells. Mrillis chose the task of unraveling the tunnel while Meghianna became the re-weaver, making the construct what it should have been from the beginning. The Valors would walk behind and before them, sensing malevolent magic and guarding against any physical attack. Then, when the tunnel had been remade, Efrin and his army would enter after them.

  The first dozen steps took them nearly half an hour of sweaty, painstaking work. Meghianna fought to grasp the handfuls of sizzling, loose, writhing Threads after Mrillis had untangled them from the knots that kept them caged. He slowed his work to help her, to try to control the recalcitrant, torn ends to allow her to work. Sweat filled his eyes and soaked his hair and beard, then down into his clothes. He had to close his eyes or be blinded by the stinging salt and fatigue poisons that filled his sweat.

  Meghianna let out a shout of triumph, weary and broken with laughter. Mrillis paused in his divided battle to look at her, six steps behind him. A gap of writhing, poisonous green and black and red-streaked Threads, three arms' length wide, lay between him and Meghianna. Then, over and around her, and extending behind her for nearly an arm's length, a pale blue, solid wall of woven Threads shimmered serenely. The contrast between the two sections of the tunnel set off a clanging dissonance in the Threads that only emphasized the foulness of the magic that held the rest of the tunnel in thrall. She traded grins with him, both of them with their physical eyes closed, so they saw only in the magical realm of the soul. Then she gestured at the leading edge of the weaving.

  Do you see? All it takes is a little friendliness and kind persuasion, and everyone wants to play.

  Mrillis nearly let go of the Threads he held in submission, as he changed his vision so he could see more clearly. For a moment, he couldn't quite comprehend. Were the Threads weaving themselves? It was easier to be certain of the change of color, slowly creeping along the Threads. After the poisonous green and red faded into pale green, then blue and white, he could see roundness fill out the flattened strands of magic, like water moving through the
stems of plants after rain ended a drought. Then--he gasped aloud, earning another chiming burst of weary laughter from her--Mrillis saw the blue-white Threads twist around each other, weaving together as if of their own volition.

  "Perhaps they are even more sentient than we imagined. They choose to act, rather than simply to cooperate," he murmured.

  The sound of his voice, faint as it was, hurt his ears. That was a clear enough sign of the physically draining effort they both expended.

  I can help you now with the untangling, Meghianna said. I still need to guide the weaving, but the more clean weaving we have behind us, the more it all works together to help.

  Then let us continue. I wonder what sort of tale this will make in the archives when we are finished.

  Lord Mrillis? The somberness of her tone made him look over his metaphorical shoulder again. Perhaps this is something that should not be recorded. Otherwise, someone will try such a thing in the future and use it against us.

  It will be tried. There will be tales of this, simply because so many soldiers have come here and have heard about it. Better that we have facts recorded, so that some young fool doesn't destroy himself and half the star-metal in the entire World, attempting to rediscover the secret.

  True. But then he--or she--will simply destroy a quarter of the star-metal trying to improve on what was done here. Her tone was sour, but Mrillis felt the chimes of unvoiced laughter than rang out through her, energizing the healed, rewoven Threads.

  Their laughter helped ease the foulness of the long, writhing tunnel ahead of them. The untangling grew easier with every ten steps they took, and the reweaving gained speed, so that the gap between poisoned Threads and purified Threads grew smaller. Meghianna devoted more of her attention to helping Mrillis dismantle the tunnel ahead of them. Soon, their pace increased to a leisurely stroll, then the steady trot of a nobleman's servant on an errand. Then their feet moved with some urgency.